


Because of These Souls

by MemoriesofMiltia



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Gen, Originally a Zine piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:56:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoriesofMiltia/pseuds/MemoriesofMiltia
Summary: During the party celebrating the victory at Denerim and death of the Archdemon, the female mage Warden sings the first version of the Companions song, celebrating her friends and comrades, all while she quietly grieves the departure of one woman.The original version of this piece was first written and published in the Patron of The Arts Zine.





	Because of These Souls

It doesn’t matter who or what you are. Whether you’re a Human Mage from the Circle, a beaten-down Elf from the city who wants to do nothing but make and sell pottery for the rest of their lives, a stoic member of the Qunari, or, Maker forbid, a Darkspawn, there’s one thing everyone shares with every other member of every other race in Thedas. After huge, harrowing, seemingly unwinnable battles where numerous, uncountable numbers of people laid down their lives for the-hopefully-greater good and, despite everything, despite all the odds, won, everyone wants to eat, drink, dance, sing, make merry, and celebrate like the battle they just pulled from the jaws of defeat is the last one that will ever have to be fought, no matter what happens next.

Of course, while this meant that Oghren had enough ale and fine wine to challenge all the soldiers in Queen Anora’s palace to a drinking game after the Archdemon was defeated, this also meant that, eventually, people wanting a good, brave, celebratory tune to dance to and just generally enjoy would bother some other soul or two for a song. They could have chosen any number of people (Leliana, who actually could sing if her life depended upon it, Wynne, who had a decent voice and the quick mind that was necessary for making good rhymes on the spur of the moment, or Zevran, who had more experience singing than most people realized), but, like a cat seeking out the best person to bother, they thrust a lute into the hands of one of the worst possible choices-the Gray Warden Amell, who’d been drinking a glass of chilled wine and laughing to herself as the participants of Oghren’s drinking game fell to the ground like boulders.

“C’mon, Warden!” They cried as Amell stared at them like they had just accused her of being in a three-way with Wynne and Oghren. “Sing us something before you go! We can’t let you leave before we hear your pretty little voice!”

“Um..alright.” said the new Arl of Amaranthine as she set her glass down on a nearby table and properly took hold of the lute, quietly thanking the Maker for giving her a random feeling of curiosity one evening that prompted her to ask Leliana how one played such instruments. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to sing about?”

“Drunk women with nice, meaty rumps!” Oghren cut in, his voice starting to slur as he laughed at his own remark. Whether it was actually a joke or not was anybody’s guess, though.

“No! Not that!” One of the men in the group replied. “At least, not right now. But sing us something about the Blight and the battle! Something good!”

“And maybe something about Duncan?” Alistair asked, despite being all the way across the long hall. “It’d..be nice to have a tribute to him somehow.”

“C’mon, Alistair.” Leliana reproved, her light voice a bit weary, but not to the point where it sounded like she was truly angry with him. “This is a celebration, not a funeral march. We need a charming, happy song right now. Something that shows us all to be the heroes we actually are.”

“Exactly.” Zevran agreed, his voice as smooth as silk. Apparently everyone who wasn’t already preoccupied with something was fully latched onto this conversation. “Something as rare and full of inspiration as the sun gleaming off newly-polished armor. Though I can see where Oghren is coming from. I myself think the sun caressing a lovely behind is more awe-inspiring than any suit of gleaming armor.”

“Alright, alright!” Amell quickly interjected, chuckling to herself with a bright smile upon her face, before the discussion-which would quickly morph into an argument, knowing this crowd-could really sprout a pair of legs and start racing about like a hyper Nug. “I think I get the picture. I’m sorry about that.” She said, turning her attention back to the original group that had approached her, who were now all slightly thrown off by the various suggestions in the conversation. “I don’t know how good I’ll be, but I hope you enjoy this song about us all.” And with that, Amell quickly started to strum a bouncing, lighthearted tune that was impossible to frown at as she started singing, her deep voice pleasant, but no more than that.

“By the side of the Wardens,  
Rabbit sought a war and found  
His glimmering teeth cut so sublime  
Through royal hearts and Ferelden minds!”

At that first stanza, Rabbit, who’d been relaxing by Sten and enjoying the tidbits of food he was secretly feeding him, let out a happy bark and thumped his tail on the ground, which made the Warden laugh as she nodded in his direction before continuing on, a warm smile on her face.

“Alistair charms with awkward words.  
Lover of magical goods,  
Embarrassed by salacious books,  
A fighter, a warrior with rugged looks.

Morrigan, mysterious Wild Witch,  
Mastered magic by her own hand.  
Not tied to the Circle or the Templars.  
Skeptic born into lovely land!

Sten fought alongside his countrymen.  
A Karasaad from Seheron.  
Freezing, sarcastic, and a huge suspect-  
Those were the early days we defended.”

Here, Amell paused, like she was finished, but only for a moment. However, while her tune and voice still bounced, they were a bit slower and somber, as if to reflect the growing losses, problems, and tensions they had felt.

“Then later, others came to the fight,  
Like Zevran, who stayed to change his life.  
But we all know that he’s still a rouge.  
The taverns will forever sing his name.”

While Amell continued singing, Zevran took a moment to bow majestically anyway, like he was the lead actor in some Orlesian play, and only a few people in the room could really tell whether the shining grin on his face was born of genuine gratitude or from the fact that he had been mentioned at all, given a prominent role in Amell’s song.

“Riordan, secretive Grey Warden.  
Proud of his life and accomplishments.  
Bruised, yet strong, protector of all,  
Informing the brave to save us all.

Leliana’s a loyal, indulgent one.  
A past brilliant agent of those who sung.  
The Game’s now far from her sight,  
So she can always find time to sing in the night.”

At that, all Leliana did was let out a high, clear note, but it echoed so much and sounded so lovely-like a nightingale who’d willfully chosen to mix her voice in with a parakeet’s, even if only for a moment-that everyone turned to look at her, their curiosity piqued, even Wynne, though she quickly went back to her conversation with Irving and only smiled when her name came up.

“Wynne, possible First Enchanter.  
Respect of the mages throughout the Circle.  
Ruthless to fight by everyone’s side.  
Defying expectations, only to rise!

Then, of course, there’s our revered ever more,  
Like General Oghren who defended the gates of Denerim!  
A Berserker, a warrior who stayed with the fight.  
Stout and bright.”

It was here that the song picked up its tempo again, like a defiant, hopeful cry to all of the sorrows that had come before, and only Oghren could say whether the way he slammed his mug down on the table as he drained it was in tribute to that spirit and the fact that it actually saw something in him or not.

“Or our friend, Duncan, warrior strong  
In beauty and brawn.  
Rivain man with a tender hand.  
Brave and bold.

Anora, noble with quick acumen  
With love and power in hand.  
Ambassador for the wealthy and shrewd.  
Dear through the land.

Ferelden surely stands  
Because of these souls, we sang.”

As the crowd clapped and cheered, Amell mentally sighed to herself in relief, though she tried not to show just how glad she was that the song was over. Not that she hated playing, but it was difficult thinking up lyrics on the fly, especially when they were about other people in the room or about their close, departed friends. If she’d honestly been by herself or in a crowd of people that she didn’t know, she would have had far less kind lines for Duncan and Anora (not that she truly hated Duncan, but the way he had murdered Ser Jory just to protect a secret that everyone joining the Grey Wardens ought to know anyway cast him in an air that was too cold for her to trust completely, and she neither liked nor trusted Anora, who came off as a cunning woman who was only interested in politics for her own gain, especially with the way she’d forced Alistair to cut all his ties to the throne), but the last thing she wanted to do was upset poor Alistair when he’d already lost so much, and it seemed stupid to piss off the new Queen for no reason when she was already on your side. On the whole, though, the song seemed to have gone over fine, awkward though it was in some parts, which just helped Amell’s smile stay on her face.

“Thank you. That really was amazing.” Alistair said as he finished clapping. “Thank you for honoring my friends.”

“And the rest of us.” Oghren grunted as he gulped down yet another mug of wine. “Speakin’ of which, where is that sexy, witchy friend of yours about? I’ve been missing her nice melons.” That nearly destroyed the smile on Amell’s face, and while she did her best to keep it on as Alistair looked like a lost, awkward puppy, the grip on her lute tightened.

“Oghren, don’t be gross. Morrigan had her own things to take care of that couldn’t wait for a celebration. Not everyone has time to rest and recuperate.” And before anyone could keep this particular conversation going or comment on the fact that something was clearly eating her, Amell turned her attention to the crowd again, her smile brighter than the Archdemon’s fire. “Alright, who wants another song?!” As she heard the suggestions of the crowd, Amell carefully considered them all and thought to herself. Today, she’d sing and pretend to be the happiest person alive. And tomorrow…

Tomorrow, she’d drink and curse and toast the one woman in the world who’d managed to keep her standing through everything.


End file.
